


Two Roads Diverged (and that has made all the difference)

by sweetproserpina



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, F/M, Quidditch, The Sorting Hat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-08 23:31:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13468908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetproserpina/pseuds/sweetproserpina
Summary: It's a lazy Sunday in the Common room and Harry's post-Quidditch boredom causes him to reflect on his life at Hogwarts. His friends, ever helpful, provide comic relief.





	Two Roads Diverged (and that has made all the difference)

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to Robert Frost for title inspiration, from his wonderful poem "The Road Not Taken".

Everyone at Hogwarts agreed that the day after a Quidditch match was dull. After the roar of the crowds, the daring tricks, and the wild celebrations, regular life paled in comparison. This particular Sunday seemed particularly dull, thanks to the incredibly exciting and much anticipated Gryffindor/Slytherin game the day previous. The weather had been the perfect temperature for the Cup match, the wind was screaming and the match lasted four fantastic hours until Harry had reached out his hand and grasped the wiggling golden orb, winning his team the game and the Cup for the year.

 

Victory at last.

 

Sixteen year old Harry Potter, mostly grown-up but still ignominiously called 'the-boy-who-lived', let the gleaming snitch go again and watched it buzz above his head before reaching out and neatly plucking it out of the air with one hand while pushing back a bothersome long tendril of black hair that had escaped from his hair slide. Growing his hair out in Fourth year had worked wonders for its unruliness, and the shoulder length black curtain was usually neatly tied half-back with one of his favourite leather slides most days. His old, round muggle specs had been enthusiastically Incendio'ed ages ago when his sleek, rectangular wizarding spectacles had arrived back near the end of First year via Owl Order. Madam Pomfrey still tutted him for not coming to her sooner to get his eyes properly sorted. The young witches certainly thought his long hair and new spectacles were quite something, and many were taken in by those bright green eyes framed in silver. Harry thoughts briefly flitted to a certain witch-

 

“I'm dreadfully bored,” a voice to his right sounded, sharp and indolent, echoing his earlier thoughts.

 

The Seeker ignored it though, and continued to play absently with the snitch while he lounged in the deep leather chair, unwittingly causing wrinkles to form in the blue casual robes he had thrown over dark denims and his black Henley. It had been years since wearing robes had seemed foreign to him, and even in relaxed moments such as this it was as natural as breathing to wear a robe.

 

“Honestly, you're like a child sometimes,” a witch replied, her voice smooth and melodious, “Rotten luck, Summerfield's been benched and put back on reserve. She'll be cut next season if she can't get it together.”

 

Lightening fast and a natural on a broom, Harry had played Quidditch for his House team since his first year which was practically unheard of, but his Head of House recognized and encouraged talent when he saw it thankfully, and had introduced him to the team captain without delay. He was first string Seeker by the next practice.

 

Clearly, Harry Potter had talent.

 

His Head of House, wisely, made sure to cultivate and draw out talent. Not only for Harry, but for every member of his House who required it. Ambition was all well and good, but one needed skill and knowledge to back it up. Tutors were acquired, apprenticeships applied for, rare materials gathered, and whether it was Ancient Runes, public policy, curse-breaking, or in Harry's case, Quidditch, the professor always had the best interests of his students at heart. He saw it as his duty, and duty was one of the paramount virtues of the noble House in which they all belonged, no matter what those other silly Houses might think or say.

 

Two of his team's Chasers reposed on the sofa to his right, Draco's head pillowed on Gin's toned thighs as she began to absently run her hand over his scalp and through his flaxen hair, her other hand holding the new Quidditch Weekly she was perusing.

 

Draco's earlier musings of boredom died on his lips as his girlfriend began her ministrations. Harry watched in amusement as Draco's eyes literally rolled back into his head in pleasure.

 

“Ginevra darling,” The blond mumbled out, his voice now looser and deeper than earlier, “I am keeping you forever.”

 

Her small smirk was the only reply as she continued reading for a moment before tossing the magazine aside and putting her other hand in her partner's hair, pulling out the thin leather tie that held it back. The couple was ridiculously well-suited to each other, everyone said so, but Harry got to see it first hand. Sometimes, he wasn't quite sure whether that was a good thing.

 

Draco and Gin loved to play with power and control, both wielding it expertly on others and on each other. Her hotheadedness was balanced by his coolness, his neediness was assuaged by her giving nature, and their combined magical power was already becoming legendary. When Weasley and Malfoy practised duelling everyone stopped to watch. And most importantly, despite the Weasley family's more progressive views, they each understood and strongly believed in tradition and family. Zabini ran the books, and even Snape was in on the betting pool as to when they would get engaged (odds were high on 'over Chirstmas hols, his Seventh Year', Harry had fifty galleons on Draco waiting until Gin's graduation ceremony, him being a lazy git obviously). Having two best friends so committed was great except on Hogsmeade weekends when he, himself, was in-between girlfriends and lacked his own snogging partner. His current flame was a fifth year Ravenclaw; an odd but pretty bird with the most gorgeous blonde waist length hair he had ever run his hands through. She was currently holed up in the library studying at the moment and forbade him to bother her until supper. He kind of liked how she bossed him around like that.

 

Gods, Sundays after Quidditch were boring, weren't they?

 

“That's not what you always thought,” Gin replied, picking up the thread of conversation belatedly.

 

“I plead momentary insanity, love.”

 

Harry snorted inelegantly, his Muggle upbringing showing. During First year, when Draco had taken him under his wing and the arrogant eleven year old began to teach him how to be a 'proper wizard', Harry tried and succeeded, mostly, in shrugging off those awful years he'd had to endure with his Muggle family. Since then, he'd spent part of every summer at the Malfoys, and when his godfather had been pardoned after his Third year, he spent the rest of his holidays with him, firmly leaving the Muggle world behind him. Sirius Black was a brilliant guardian, more like a dashing older brother than anything, and the two of them got along famously. The house at Grimmauld Place during the summer was a constant rotation of hedonistic parties, glamorous witches at the breakfast table, and powerful wizards in the library for drinks and cigars.

 

Now, as the established heir of the Potter and Black Houses, Harry dressed like a wizard, spoke like a wizard, and behaved like a wizard. He sometimes sat there in Hogwarts, surrounded by tradition, ambition, and magic and it gave him such sense of belonging that it made him question if that other life before he turned eleven had ever existed at all.

 

Draco slitted an eye open and sneered at his friend, “Think that's funny, Potter?”

 

“Absolutely cracking, Malfoy,” a grin unfurling on his face, the snitch forgotten, “We all thought that Hat had lost it when it Sorted her here. I believe you called her a 'nasty bit of Weasley filth' when she sat down on the stool.”

 

Gin smacked her boyfriend smartly on the head at that revelation.

 

“Ow! Witch!” Draco rubbed his abused skull a moment before grabbing her hand, kissing it gallantly and smirking, “I humbly beg your forgiveness.”

 

Poncy toff.

 

Chuckling, she replied, “Draco, if you had said anything nicer at the time I would be more shocked.”

 

Turning to Harry she said, “Not sure if I caused quite the amount of stir that you did the year before though, wish I could have been there for that, all I got was a rubbish account from one of Percy's letters.”

 

The Sorting Hat had poked around in Harry's head for a long while before suggesting Slytherin House. Hagrid hadn't revealed much of anything about Hogwarts when they'd purchased his school supplies that summer, and though he'd briefly met Draco at the robe shop, he hadn't dared form any opinions on the polished boy. At least Draco talked to him, and given him the time of day; at his old school everyone was terrified lest his cousin find out. A friendly, blond Hufflepuff boy had shown him how to get through to the platform, and he'd sat quietly and kept to himself on the train, stuck in a compartment with some older Ravenclaws; he'd squeezed his eyes shut hoping it all wasn't just some brilliant dream that would end as soon as he woke up.

 

His ignorance proved to be his saving grace.

 

When the Hat told him he had talent and could be a great wizard, and that Slytherin House would help get him there, his thoughts shouted a loud YES in acceptance. Because more than anything, scrawny, abused, and ignored eleven-year-old Harry James Potter wanted to be the greatest wizard he could be, and never have to go back to that awful, spider-infested, cupboard. Harry trusted the Hat, and was Sorted into the House of Snakes.

 

“The Great Hall was silent for more than a minute after I got Sorted, everyone, even Dumbledore and Professor Snape were shocked, and then the noise from our House shook the windows. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff joined in after a bit, and Gryffindor” Harry shrugged his shoulders, “well, we never expected much from them. Once it sunk in, the look Snape gave McGonagall was wicked. She practically had steam coming from her ears.”

 

Ginevra laughed, “Still, wish I could have seen it. My Sorting just had Ron blowing smoke from his ears.” She smiled, remembering, “the twins seemed exceptionally proud though. Fred told me that they'd almost got put in Slytherin too, but decided being Gryffindor was better for their style of mischief. Can you imagine those two in Slytherin? The chaos...”

 

They all shivered at the thought.

 

“Why  _ did _ the Hat put you in Slytherin, Ginevra? You've never told me.”

 

He was curious now. Draco shifted his position, sitting up, his hair ruffled, “Weasleys have been in Gryffindor for generations, haven't they? Whatever kind of naughtiness was that Relic privy to, dearest?” The blond wizard couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at her and smirk indulgently.

 

“Wouldn't you like to know?”

 

She suddenly had both Harry and Draco's full attention, they looked at her as if to say 'Well?'

 

Waiting a few more moments to draw out the suspense and allow their imaginations to run amok, she chortled, gasping for breath.

 

“Honestly, I was eleven, you're so pervy, what do you think the Hat saw?” She buried her face into Draco's shoulder, hiding a grin before straightening up with a smirk on her plump, pink lips.

 

“It saw how I sneaked into the broomshed and used to steal my brothers brooms, how I used to blackmail my brothers horribly into getting what I want.” She paused for a moment, “Hold on a tic, I still do that,” she laughed. “Guess I'm just sneaky and ambitious. Oh, and brilliantly powerful, remember Seventh in Seven and all that.”

 

Both boys groaned in unison.

 

“Not that again.”

 

“Honestly Ginevra, if I had a Galleon for every time you brought that up, I'd need yet another vault at Gringotts.”

 

Suddenly, Draco landed on the floor abruptly, face smashed uncomfortably into the Abyssinian rug and a wand poking painfully into cheek. Bloody witch.

 

“Say I'm the most powerful witch in the castle.” Gin ground out, pushing the wand in a little harder, her temper turning on a sickle.

 

Harry raised his eyebrows but decided to stay out of it, he'd been on the end of that wand often enough, still he loosely palmed his own wand, just in case Ginevra got out of hand, well, more out of hand.

 

“Ginvera!” Draco spluttered into the carpet, trying to free himself from the silent body bind that she had cast on him.

 

“Say it!”

 

He tried pry his face up so he could look at his girlfriend when he spoke, his cool, soft, words flowed over her sparking temper, “Darling, you are by far the most powerful witch in this castle, kindly get you wand out of my face and reverse the body bind. If you wanted me at your mercy, you only need ask.”

 

The 'boy-who-lived' watched as Gin slowly smiled and helped her boyfriend up off the carpet, casting a quick de-wrinkling charm on his mussed robes. Draco raised a single eyebrow at her, “Better?”

 

The little red-haired witch pulled him down to her level and proceeded to snog him silly.

 

For Merlin's sake, Harry rolled his eyes upwards and cast a light stinging hex their way before calling out, “Room, please!”

 

The stinging hex broke them apart and Gin stuck her tongue out at Harry before grabbing Draco's hand and dragging him out of the common room. Harry watched as the blond put up little resistance and grinned so wide his pearly teeth gleamed in the odd light of the torches and the lake.

 

“Later Potter. Or not!” Draco called over his shoulder, glad to have something far more interesting than chatting with Harry to keep him occupied on this lazy Sunday.

 

Harry sighed lightly and let the snitch go, watching as it careened around the dungeon room. This castle with all it's hidden rooms and secrets was home, the Malfoys, the Weasleys (some of them), Sirius and Remus, they were his real family, and magic was what held his entire world together. There were no regrets, no errant thoughts of how his life could have been different had he chosen a different path; every decision, every choice had led him to this moment and sixteen year old Harry Potter thought that this moment was brilliant.

 

However, it could be improved upon.

 

Maybe he should go to the library. Luna wouldn't be too angry if he didn't follow the rules, he was a Slytherin after all.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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